Running Away
by Narn1
Summary: Elven version of the story of King David: Alcalatawen is about to get married to a soldier...but his commander has different plans.
1. Beginning

HOW DARE HE! Alcalatawen thought to herself, pacing her room. How DARE he flirt with her so shamelessly, even through the withering glares she gave him. He had no right to do this to her, especially in front of Dimcoire, her fiancé! That fiendish commander of the soldiers, Nuinmellon, would be her end. She could feel it. Him and his bright eyes, long hair, and charming words. He could rot for all Alcalatawen cared. Sitting down on a chair, her pale blue gown fluttering about her, Alcalatawen sighed. The stupid prick would have to wait for now. With her wedding in three days, she didn't have time for that fiend. She closed her eyes, leaning back into the plush comfort of the chair. What she wouldn't give for a few moments of sleep. However, this sleep was not to be. Just as soon as she felt ready to drift off, Alcalatawen's mother and her cronies burst in, armed with fabrics, ribbons, and flowers.  
  
"Alright dear, we've put this off for far too long. It's time to get the dress made." Her mother said.  
  
"Mother-"  
  
"I'm not interested in excuses, right now we have to get this done. Alkcolloien, get the measurements. Imbelótëiel, start cutting the fabric. Sindaannawen, prepare the flower crown!" THE women set to work, while Alacaltawen stood there awkwardly, being poke and prodded, measured and stuck. The process seemed to go on forever. However, a knock at the door offered some respite. Alcalatawen breathed a sigh of relief as her mother answered the door.  
  
"Dimcoire, come in!" Alcalatawen called out, seeing a familiar flash of blue eyes.  
  
"It is not Dimcoire here, my lady." The figure at the door said, stepping in. It was that fiend, Nuinmellon. He wore a silky smile, as well as navy robes. Alcalatawen had to fight to resist the urge to spit at him.  
  
"If it pleases the lady, I wish to speak with her alone." Nuinmellon said smoothly.  
  
"Whatever you have to say to me, Nuinmellon, you can say in front of my mother and her friends."  
  
"Actually, dear, we can leave." Alcalatawen's mother said, rising to leave.  
  
"I'd prefer it if you were here." She said, flashing a quick imploring look towards her mother. With a nearly undetectable nod, her mother sat down again, setting herself to sewing some pieces of fabric together. Alcalatawen could have sworn that Nuinmellon's eyes flashed dangerously as she spoke, though she wasn't completely sure.  
  
"Well, Prince, what is it you have to say to me?" Alcalatawen said, mimicking the smoothness in Nuinmellon's voice. It was at this moment that another knock at the door sounded. One of the cronies jumped up to answer, letting in another elf. He was slightly shorter than Nuinmellon, and had the same bright blue eyes. However, his eyes were kind, not searching and analyzing like the fiendish Commanders.  
  
"Dimcoire!" Alcalatawen said happily, running towards him. They embraced happily, exchanging a warm kiss.  
  
"I missed you." He said, smiling.  
  
"I missed you more." She grinned. Dimcoire looked up from his beloved's face, and saw Nuinmellon in the room. His whole demeanor changed.  
  
"Commander, if I may be so bold as to ask why you are here in my fiancées chambers?"  
  
"Simply to bring my best wishes for the both of you. Now if you will excuse me. I have other matters to attend to." Nuinmellon said curtly, exiting the room.  
  
"What was that?" Dimcoire asked Alcalatawen, relaxing.  
  
"I really couldn't say. He's been flirting with me for the longest time."  
  
"I know." He replied with chagrin.  
  
"I hope that he'll drop this once we are married." She said, sighing.  
  
"I do as well. For now, however, there is nothing we can do-he's the commander of the soldiers of Mirkwood, and I am simply a soldier." He responded, pulling Alcalatawen in close. 


	2. Decision

~*~Author's Note~*~  
  
Hehe..just read over what I'd published of this story.hehe..yeah. This originally DID start off as something of an anti-Legolas fic. It morphed though. It needed to be someone different, and I guesss I didn't edit very well. This chapter should be a little cleaner. Thanks to all my reviewers * hugs * Thakies! Keep them reviews coming. Just so you know, it may be about a week before I can update. Sorry. It's just going to be a hectic week. Hope you all understand. Muchas Gracias..  
  
The day of the wedding finally came. Alcalatawen was ravishing in her gown (Her mother cried at the sight of her own handiwork), and took Dimcoire's breath away. Nuinmellon sat in the back, watching with eager eyes the ceremony taking place before him. The wedding was over far too quickly, and Dimcoire and Alacalatawen ran off quickly together to spend some time alone. Hiding behind some trees, they embraced, each enjoying the others presence.  
  
"Well. Where do we go from here?" Dimcoire asked, smiling at his new wife.  
  
"Anywhere. How about Gondor?" She replied, grinning.  
  
"Why Gondor?" He asked, laughing.  
  
"It's away from here. Does that sound good?"  
  
"Yes, it does."  
  
"To Gondor then."  
  
"To Gondor."  
  
"Neither of you will be going to Gondor, I'm afraid." A new voice from nearby said. Alcalatawen and Dimcoire turned, and saw Nuinmellon standing right next to them.  
  
"Beg your pardon?" Dimcoire asked, a little taken aback by the presence of his commander.  
  
"Neither of you will be going to Gondor. I am instructed that I must send my strongest warriors to Rivendell to be presented to Lord Elrond."  
  
"But why?" Asked Alcalatawen.  
  
"That is none of your concern, Alcalatawen. All you need know is that Dimcoire is to go to Rivendell, and you are not. No spouses, lovers or friends."  
  
"But, we were just married!" Dimcoire said, stepping forward.  
  
"Stand down, soldier. I have my orders, and you have yours. Prepare to leave for Rivendell in two hours."  
  
"Two hours? We were just married, Sir! Have pity!"  
  
"Pity is not needed-soldiers are. Good day." Nuinmellon walked away with a swish of his long cloak. Alcalatawen and Dimcoire stood there in a silent stupor. Neither could believe what they had just heard.  
  
"He can't do this!" Alcalatawen said, her complexion growing pale.  
  
"He just did." Dimcoire said quietly, holding his bride close.  
  
"It's not fair! He can't do this! Oh, Dimcore, this is all my fault!" She sobbed into his shoulder, comforted slightly by his strong arms around her.  
  
"Shhhhh.hush, dear. It's not your fault." Dimcore said soothingly.  
  
"But it is!" She said, looking up at her husband. "I stood by and let him flirt with me. I let him believe that he stood a chance with me. Now that I am married, he is jealous! Now he's taking it out on you!" She buried her head into Dimcore's shoulder once again, letting the tears flow freely.  
  
"Oh Dimcore-I'm so sorry! I didn't want this to happen."  
  
"I know, love. I know." Dimcore looked down at Alcalatawen, out of words to say to her. She sobbed into his shoulder for another moment, before looking up.  
  
"I have it!" She said, excitedly. Her eyes were swollen and red, but a light within them flashed, giving Dimcore a little hope.  
  
"What?" He asked intently.  
  
"We can go to Gondor!" She said, smiling brightly.  
  
"Now is not the time, my love."  
  
"No! It is! We'll escape to Gondor, start a new life! Away from Nuinmellon! Away from all of this!"  
  
"But how will we survive among the humans?"  
  
"We will find a way."  
  
"How can you be so certain?"  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"That's a comfort." Dimcore said, grinning.  
  
"We have two hours to get out of here. Meet me here in ten minutes. Bring all you need or want, as well as a horse." She said, giving Dimcore one last kiss, and running off. A little dazed, but definitely excited, Dimcore quickly ran back to his home to gather what he could. 


	3. Onwards

Alcalatawen rushed excitedly to her small home. Gathering together some simple clothing, as well as a few items she could trade off, she beamed happily. In ten minutes, she'd be riding off to Gondor with her beloved. She looked out the window, making sure no one was there, and with all the swiftness and silence of the elves, ran back to the tree where she was to meet her husband. Time went slowly for her. She could barely hold still, due to her anticipation. What was taking him so long? Perhaps she was just being impatient-excited to be going. Whatever the reason, she still worried. Glancing uneasily about the woods, she wrung her hands. Where was he? All of a sudden, she saw him, and her heart leapt.  
  
"It certainly took you long enough." She called, smiling. Dimcoire drew closer, smiling as well.  
  
"Forgive me. I had to employ evasive maneuvers to avid Nuinmellon and his men." With a quick embrace, Dimcoire hoisted Alcalatawen onto the large brown stallion he had brought with him. She beamed down at him from atop the horse, the sunshine glinting off her long blonde hair. He mounted right behind her, and smiled.  
  
"Onward then." He whispered in her ear.  
  
"HALT!" A voice called out, shattering the stillness. Nuinmellon burst out of the bushes, and soldiers surrounded the couple, armed with bows and ready to fire.  
  
"What is the meaning of this?" Dimcoire demanded, pulling back on the reins of the now-spooked horse.  
  
"Dimcoire, by the authorization of King Tharanduil, I am to take you in for the crime of desertion, a heinous act punishable by death." He replied, in his signature smooth, casual voice.  
  
"Desertion? The only desertion I see here is you from your senses, Nuinmellon!" Alcalatawen said angrily.  
  
"Do not meddle, Alcalatawen. Guards, seize the criminal." Nuinmellon responded coolly. Two of the guards wrestled Dimcoire off the horse and onto the ground, where his hands and feet were bound, and a sack put over his head. The two guards then began to drag him away. Alcalatawen leapt off the horse, trying to catch her lover, but was grabbed by another guard, who held her back.  
  
"And you, Alcalatawen." Nuinmellon said spitefully "You will be dealt with. Guards, throw her in the dungeon."  
  
"You FIEND!" Alcalatawen screamed.  
  
"Watch your tongue, my lady." Nuinmellon hissed, leaning towards her. With a haughty toss of her head, Alcalatawen spat in his face. Stepping back in surprise, and wiping his face with his sleeve, Nuinmellon gave another order.  
  
"Guards, be sure to gag her." A white cloth was brought forward as her hands were tied, and she was gagged quickly. She was then dragged away, Nuinmellon smiling smugly 


	4. Decision

Alcalatawen sat on the cold stone floor of the dungeon, still in her wedding dress. She bit down hard on her gag in order to hold back the screams of rage brewing within her. She leaned back against the wall of her prison, head held high. She prayed that her Dimcoire was alright. She wished she were with him-to comfort him, to tell him it would be alright. But then, she would be lying. It wasn't alright. Dimcoire was to be put to death, and Eru knew what Nuinmellon would do to her. In order to distract herself from her thoghts, she closd her eyes and clamped down as hard as she could on her gag. The large wooden door to her cell swung open with a creak, and in stepped Nuinmellon. Alcalatawen shot him a muderous glare, and turned away from him.  
  
"There is no need to be uncivil, Alcalatawen." He said casually. Alcaalatawen responded by ignoring him, and forcing herself to bite down harder on her gag. Nuinmellon strided over, and leaned in close.  
  
"Look at me when I talk to you, Alcalatawen-I am your only hope." He hissed into her ear. With that he untied the gag, pulling it from her mouth.  
  
"I do not need your help, fiend." She said, shifting away from him.  
  
"I can make this all go away, you know."  
  
"I don't care."  
  
"I think you do."  
  
"You think wrong."  
  
"Don't you even want to know how to get rid of all this?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You're going to hear."  
  
"I won't listen."  
  
"Fine. Hear me out though-If you denounce Dimcoire, I'll release him."  
  
"NO."  
  
"Give it some thou-"  
  
"NO! I would rather die."  
  
"That can be arranged, you know." He said, his voice quavering dangerously.  
  
"So be it." She hissed. "FINE. You will join your beloved on the block tomorrow!" Nuinmellon shouted, storming out of the cell, slamming the door behind him. 


	5. Realization

At the same time, Dimcoire sat in his cell, thinking of his dear Alcalatawen. He hoped she wouldn't do anything rash that might get her killed.  
  
With the sack over his head, he could see nothing, so he simply sat, alone with his thoughts. There wasn't much else he could do-It was the end for him. Tomorrow, he would be put to death in front of his comrades, his friends, and family. In front of Alcalatawen. It was this last part that disturbed him most. He didn't want Alcalatawen to see him like that. He hoped that she would remember him. He hoped she would move on. His door swung open with an impatient groan, and heavy footsteps fell, stopping somewhere in the centre of the room.  
  
"Are you proud, Dimcoire?" A haughty voice spat. It was clearly Nuinmellon, no question.  
  
"Proud? What do you mean?" Dimcoire asked.  
  
"Proud of your wife."  
  
"What about Alcalatawen?"  
  
"She has chosen to die with you."  
  
"What?" Dimcoire asked, alarmed.  
  
"I offered her freedom if she would denounce you. She refused. Now both of you will DIE. Pleasant dreams soldier-tomorrow is a big day." Nuinmellon laughed hollowly. The heavy footsteps exited the cell, and the heavy door slammed shut. Dimcoire was now alone, leaning against the cold, hard wall of his cell.  
  
"Alcalatawen-No." 


	6. Fate

~*~Author's Note~*~  
  
Thankies to all meh reviewers. Luv y'all muchly! * Huggles * Thanks for coming on this journey with me, Dimcoire, and Alcalatawen. This is the last chapter-Fate. It's short, but powerful. Thank you again-I'm glad you've enjoyed my work.  
  
The lovers both had dreamless sleep that night. Dreamless, yes, but uneasy. As the sun rose the next morning, they were rudely awoken by guards, and pulled to their feet. Dragged out into the pale daylight, they were brought before the palace. Here, the lover saw each other again. No words were spoke-none were needed. They looked at each other; their gazes filled with broken dreams, and shattered hope. The guards pulled the two up onto the block, where Nuinmellon was waiting, garbed in robes of white. A crowd had gathered to see Alcalatawen and Dimcore put to death. The lovers' heads were forced roughly to their knees, and their heads were held against stumps. Alcalatawen's long hair was pulled back, and the executioners stood by-emotionless, cold, and bleak. Nuinmellon held his head high, and began to speak.  
  
"Countrymen-we gather here today on a sad occasion. Two deserters, one a soldier underneath me, as well as his wife, have been caught. As you all know, this is a crime punishable by death. As far as I am concerned, no further words are needed. Let the execution commence."  
  
Nuinmellon nodded to the executioners, who stepped forward. They brandished their sharp swords. The lovers' hands were untied, and they reached for each other. Hand in hand, they awaited their doom. Nuinmellon looked on, pitiless. With another nod, the executioners' swords fell. In a moment, it was done. Two heads fell, two bodies went limp-together. 


End file.
